


and the stars never rise

by saphinias



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Heartbreak, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5173682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphinias/pseuds/saphinias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn leaves and suddenly Liam's whole world is a night sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the stars never rise

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write a Ziam piece for a really long time now - since before Zayn left. I think I was stuck for so long because however I look at it, their relationship is incredibly complex. It's not the fated relationship that I like to think Harry and Louis' is, and that's what I'm most comfortable writing. I wanted to write something cute and fluffy, but it just didn't feel right. Maybe now I'll be able to, with the important stuff out of the way.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not real, just based loosely on real events.

_Brown_ is comfort he no longer possesses.  Brown is not singular or boring.  It is a swirling pool of gold and mahogany and chocolate.  Brown is luxurious and encompassing.  Brown is skin that hasn’t touched his in too long.  It is cold days with hot chocolate.  It is stark against white sheets.  It is nostalgia for their past, and dreams of their future.

 _Blue_ strikes him first when he sees his unhappiness.  An electric blue, the kind that ominously illuminates heavy grey storm clouds.  Searing, bright blue panic, rolling in on a tide of sky.  It rips through his insides and blinds him.  He stops looking for it because he can’t handle the electric blue he feels.  He ignores the storm that is coming.  He turns his back and hopes that it doesn’t catch up to him.  Like a child, he covers his own eyes and convinces himself that if he can’t see it, it can’t be there.

He burns _red_ when his eyes are uncovered by the storm.  Fire burns hot in his belly, and the flames snake out from his heart and dance on his fingertips.  It feels like the room is on fire, but it’s only him.   _He_ is standing like a late fall drizzle in the middle of an explosion - and then there is thunder.  But it isn’t, it’s furniture being thrown by flaming fingertips.  It’s the echo of knees hitting the floor in defeat.  Red is the fire burning itself out.

 _Black_ is what he feels when he tells him that he’s leaving.  The world falls away into nothingness.  Nothing has color, and nothing has meaning.  Black is the absence of color.  Black is the absence of him.

His eyes adjust to the darkness.

The longer he lives in _black_ , the more it resembles the night sky.  Pinpoints of people, songs, and sights become the stars.  The memories of him are painted across the sky in a milky band of blue light.

He remembers _blue_.  Before blue was the past, before blue was a drizzle, before blue was electric, it was the color of a rare clear day.  A day when nobody was watching.  When blue meant happiness with him.  Before, blue went with white.

_White_.  When he looks up at the frothing memories of his night sky, he can remember what white was.  It was first meetings and new friends and acceptance.  It was poorly-concealed stares and a dusky blush.  It was five skinny fingers wrapping around his hand and his heart. 

 White was love.


End file.
